


Dirty Laundry

by Cythieus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward First Times, Bodily Fluids, Cocky Hilda, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, Girls Kissing, Good Taste, Laundry, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Lesbian virgin, Loss of Virginity, Magic Fingers, Minor Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Neck Kissing, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Nipples, Oral Sex, POV Lesbian Character, Panties, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Surprise Kissing, Teaching, Vaginal Fingering, Virginity, Wet & Messy, Wet Clothing, Wet Clothing Kink, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-12 20:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cythieus/pseuds/Cythieus
Summary: Marianne has a secret. As she works to scrub it away under the cover of night a chance meeting with her housemate leads to Hilda helping her learn a new way to relieve some stress. Academy Phase.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In reality this was all meant to be one chapter...a sort of quick in and out thing featuring Marianne and Hilda, but it just kept getting longer and I decided that for my own convenience and that of the people who read it that I would split it into two separate chapters to be posted on consecutive days.

Perhaps she should have gone to see Madame Manuela at the Infirmary after the first time that it happened. That was the responsible thing to do, but thought of a hypothetical situation where she did that made Marianne shiver. Her hands trembled so hard that she was forced to stop scrubbing. 

The laundry room was dark and it was there, in the chilled night air with her harms submerged up to the elbow in the wash basin that she could tell how hard she had been rubbing at the fabric. Her hands were almost raw, the water stung at her soft fingertips. She had to be sure it was clean though. 

What if it was contagious or someone just noticed? 

Marianne sat up onto her knees, drying her hands on the hem of her dressing gown as she extracted them from the bucket of water. Maybe she could set up a small container for bucking—mix lye into water to let the clothes soak and take with them whatever foul substance it was that had bled into them. The bucking process wasn’t something done often and she didn’t like to work with lye, but this seemed to be an emergency. 

The chilly air nipped at her cheek in a thin line just behind where a tear had passed. She hadn’t noticed the tears at first, but it was an appropriate response to all of this. She didn’t know what was happening to her body and the symptoms were like nothing she had read in any of the healing texts she’d spent years studying or the books she had found in the library over the last several nights. 

Thomas had been traveling for some time, but thank the Goddess, because if she had to look into these things while he was present she didn’t know what she would do.

She dunked her hands back into the bucket, the subtle warmth overcoming her slowly. As the water stirred and moved her heard voices. They were distant, but drawing nearer. One of them deep and almost incomprehensible, but the other she could almost understand. 

Marianne stiffened her arms to listen also hoping that her silence would ward off prying eyes. Though she didn’t consciously do it, she was also holding her breath. Things were best when no one noticed her back home, she didn’t see why there would be any difference here. Especially with her having…personal issues. Another student would just fret over her or nosily butt in.

“—you want me to what? Yeah, that’s not going to happen, okay. But thank you for helping me with the wash.” Marianne could hear Hilda clearly now. Hilda would definitely want answers if she found her. 

The washing stall where Marianne sat was so near the outer edge of the building. There were spaces between the boards where one could peek out without the risk of being easily seen, Marianne moved her face closer to the wood, her eye searching for her housemate. Hilda was standing on the cobblestone path that led to the door, her back was facing it. She wasn’t in uniform, but instead wore a pink and black dressing gown. 

Even nearly exposed and out in the open like this Hilda was a sight to behold. She radiated confidence. It was hard enough for Marianne to tear her eyes away from Hilda that she almost didn’t notice the boy that Hilda had been talking to. 

A dark haired boy who was not from the Officers Academy, he wore his uniform still. His face was obscured by the bushes near the door, but Marianne could see his hands, writhing together in front of him. It made her uncomfortable, even from the safety of her hiding space. 

His voice seemed to be little more than a low mumble, but she could hear it better now that she was listening for it. 

“You sure you don’t want a drink. I’ve got a delicious Ram Wine back at mine…” the boy said. 

“In the enlisted dorms? No, while free wine sounds nice and you’ve been sweet to help me with my chores I don’t really want you trying to get handsy with me while your roommate looks on.” Hilda rocked her body, twisting side to side nonchalantly as she spoke. It was then that Marianne noticed the massive stack of folded clothes in Hilda’s hands.

The boy persisted. “Come on, I worked really hard to get that stuff clean for you.”

“And we spent the whole evening together in the village like I promised…you even threatened to keep some of my underwear if I didn’t make good on it, so I think we’re done here. Good night, Nathan,” Hilda said as she began to back away with slow, deliberate steps. 

“No!” Nathan yelled, causing Marianne to jump. She clamped her hands to her mouth to cover the noise. “The nobility thinks they can just abuse us because they have a little gold, because they have crests…” he was holding Hilda’s arm at the wrist. 

Hilda tugged at him, but not hard. Probably because she was balancing a stack of clothes on top of her hands and steadying them with her chin. “Hilda understands the grievances of the working class, but she doesn’t have the energy for this right now…really Nathan, please let go.” 

Marianne could see Nathan’s face now, she recognized him from around campus, but she had never spoken to him. In one look at the furrowed brow and the deep rage brimming behind his eyes she understood everything there was to know about him. Half-dressed or not, she had to step out there and intervene. She had to help Hilda. It was her duty. 

“You can’t refuse me,” Nathan growled. 

Steadying herself with a hand against the wall, Marianne got to her feet and rushed out of the washing stall toward the front door of the laundry shed. 

“That hurts Nathan…that, ow. You’re going to make me drop this—I told you, I’m tired.” 

“Perform your _duties_ like the highborn whore you are—you owe me…House Goneril owes me!” 

Marianne burst through the door just in time to see Hilda’s freshly laundered clothes toppling over to the side of the cobblestone path into the dirt. In one swift motion Hilda twisted her arm free of Nathan’s grasp and slammed the heel of her and into his nose. 

He staggered back, clutching his face and giving her further opening to squat down low and grapple him at the waist. She lifted him only enough to get him over her back before flipping him onto the ground behind her with wet thud as he landed half on the path and half in the mud. 

“Don’t mistake my laziness for weakness, when a lady says let go you let go…” Hilda said as she turned back to face him, her gaze fell upon Marianne. 

“You broke my nose—your kind ruins everything!” His voice was muffled under his hand Your brother took my sister away and now you can’t even have the decency to…

“I don’t know anything about my brother and your sister. What I do know is now I have to clean up the laundry that I already made you do plus my cute new dressing gown that you bled all over.”

Nathan climbed to his feet, bracing himself on the nearby shrubbery as blood ran down his face and into his mouth. “I’ll tell everyone about this.”

“Good. And how do you think Duke Goneril will react to someone accosting his beloved daughter?” Hilda cut quite the imposing figure. Marianne had shared a battlefield with her for some time now and she knew what her classmate was really capable of. Maybe this Nathan guy didn’t know what he had gotten into. 

The young man’s body, which had been tensed and ready for the attack wilted back, his hands falling complacently to his sides. He said nothing, but the look in his eyes was that of defeat. 

“That’s what I thought,” Hilda said brazenly. 

So perhaps he did understand what he had gotten himself into? Even among the families of the alliance there were those that seemed more like the powerhouse bloodlines of the Faerghus or the Empire…Hilda was of one of those. Goneril was old blood, purer then most old blood. It wasn’t like Hilda to make herself out to be above commoners so blatantly, but it wasn’t like this was a normal situation. 

Who would attack a classmate? And for something so petty? 

The boy’s actions made Marianne’s stomach turn. Even as he was turning and walking away she wondered if she should suggest that they report him to the staff, but then again people might start asking what she was doing out of her room. People were always suspicious of her, always talking about what she was about—best not to call attention to herself. Best to just stay quiet. 

Natan was off down the path when Hilda let her eyes stray from his back. “Kind of surprised to see you out here this late,” she said. 

Marianne’s body stiffened. “Wha-what? I was just…doing my wash!” 

“Seems like an odd thing to do,” Hilda said heading for the door of the laundry shed. “I suppose you’re trying to avoid the crowds—makes sense.” As Hilda entered the room Marianne knew this was going to be it. Hilda would sort out exactly what kind fo disease addled wreck Marianne really was. 

She would be sent away or married off to some lowly house or worse…

With small shuffling steps Marianne followed her inside. “Wait—“

Hilda was at one of the basins near the center of the whole room, using the pump to bring little spurts of water into the container. She washed her hands in the water, sighing inwardly. “Got that jackass’s blood on me, ugh,” Hilda said. 

Marianne slipped back into her washing stall, standing over the bucket she had been using. The light of the dim candles reflected off of the waters surface back at her and at the bottom of that water a pair of panties floated lifelessly.

“Commoner or noble, boys really just want to go shoving their penis into anything and everything like it’s a new sword,” Hilda said with a shrug as she approached Marianne. 

Started, Marianne moved to block the bucket, but kicked it with her right foot and then left. It rocked side to side, the weight of the water offsetting it. Hilda froze partway into the stall, her pink eyes locked on the water spilling over the top of the bucket. 

When the container toppled onto its side Marianne gasped, but it rolled away from where she was standing causing the water to fan out and washing a white lump of cloth across the soaked floor toward Hilda’s feet. 

Petrified, Marianne watched as Hilda bent down and pinched the panties between two fingers and hoisted them into the air. A puzzled look overtaking her entire face for a moment. “Huh?” Hilda said. 

“Those are—I,” Marianne started to protest, started to say anything, but she wasn’t able to think of anything that could hide what she had been doing here, that could hide what kind of person she was. She only hoped whatever strange affliction had taken her wouldn’t spread. 

“You were washing…one pair?” Hilda asked.

Marianne lowered her head, keeping her eyes on her feet. “Yes.” 

Hilda walked toward her, handing the underwear back. “Oh, you poor thing. Did you need some supplies…you know for your period?” Asked Hilda. 

“Oh. No it’s not—“ 

“You’ve got to mark these things down on a calendar Marianne, either that or buy red panties and just become one of those wild women just lets the drips fall as they may!” Hilda made a little fanning gesture near her crotch before laughing. 

Marianne held the underwear between her hands, nervously knotting the fabric in her fingers until the sound of the drops of water hitting the floor between them was deafening. 

“Thank you,” Marianne said. “But it’s not that.”

“Not what?” 

“It’s not my period.” 

“Oh. Laugh too hard and pee yourself? The other day that smarmy Slyvain guy poked me in the side and I’m pretty sure a little spritzed got out…they need to put a bell on that kid…” Hilda muttered. 

Was this the kind of thing that friends could talk about? Marianne wasn’t sure, but it seemed that what Hilda was telling her now would be considered somewhat embarrassing and like not the kind of thing that you just told anyone. Hilda knew a lot of things, plus she talked to other girls. Maybe she would know what to do, either way she had to warn her because she had touched the panties and there was some risk this thing could spread. 

“It’s not like that. I—I think I may be sick.” 

“With what?” 

Marianne wadded the panties up in one hand and dropped them onto the side of the overturned bucket. “I don’t know. It’s been going on for the last few nights and some other times around the campus. I just get…it’s indecent to say. “

“I may be a lady, but I’m also too lazy to get onto you about being indecent. Spill it.” 

Marianne dropped her gaze to the floor, summoning up all of her courage. She swore she could feel the crest energy burning through her blood in that moment. “My body is leaking a lot of mucus at strange times…”

Hilda stared at her. “And you blew your nose on your panties? That is gross.” 

“No, the leaking is coming from…” Marianne writhed her fingers together nervously. 

“Oh! Wait, what? What kind of leaking? I mean, that’s not not normal. It’s an open hole that goes into your body and it spends like 60% of your day just dangling over the ground,” Hilda said. 

Marianne could feel the blood rushing to her face, pooling under her cheeks and making heat radiate out just below her eyes. For a moment she could hear her heart pounding like it was massive and just sitting out in the room with the both of them. 

“It gets very wet. It doesn’t seem natural.” 

“Um, you pour water in your mouth and it comes out there as pee. It being we is, like, the most natural thing in Fódlan. I mean, you’ve seen how wet it gets when you…you know.” 

Marianne turned toward Hilda, there must have been some expression of genuine confusion in her face, because Hilda’s expression sank a little. 

“You know, your _me time_. As long as it’s not coming out super violently or making a bad smell you should be okay. That’s what this book I read said anyway,” Hilda explained. 

“I’m not sure what you mean by my me time….is that like when I take a bath?” Asked Marianne. 

Hilda shrugged. “I supposed if that’s how you do it,” she said before stepping in closer. “I do my best work right before a bath because you know you can make a big production of the thing then, you’re just going to bathe it all off,” Hilda nudged Marianne with her elbow after she spoke. 

“Y-yeah,” Marianne said. “Wait—what?” 

Hilda chuckled. “Come on, do I have to spell it out for you?” Asked Hilda. “M-A-S-T-E-eh, I don’t really know how to spell it, but masturbation. I’m talking about masturbation, obviously.” 

Marianne grasped the collar of her dressing gown, clutching it tight to her chest. Her cheeks reddened fiercely, she fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. The concept was something familiar to her, of course she knew of _that_. The other girls often talked as if she weren’t around. They spoke of the things they would get up to with other girls or boys and if they were feeling particularly adventurous, they talked about what they would do with themselves. 

As with most interactions with others, it was best if people kept away from her. She didn’t think that she could bring herself to do….what Hilda spoke of. 

“I don’t do that…” Marianne said.

Hilda gave a little forced laugh. “What do you mean?” 

“I’ve never…done the thing you’re talking about.”

Hilda clasped her hands together in front of her waist. “Whoa…how are you even alive, Mari?” 

“What?” Marianne stumbled, her hand catching hold of the bench that ran around the edge of the stall. She lowers herself down until she’s sitting against the wall. “I—I’m sorry, I just. I need to go…” 

The bench rocked below Marianne as Hilda stomped a foot against the edge of the seat right next to her. The thud from the collision seemed to come a little late as Marianne glanced down to see the cause, shock playing across her face. Now the other girl’s thigh was right at eye level. Hilda’s knee right off to her side. 

“Nah-uh, we’re not doing that whole thing again,” Hilda said. “Tell me what you were saying.” 

Marianne averted her eyes from Hilda’s inner thigh, she didn’t dare follow the trail of pale skin to where it led. After a few short seconds the biting fear and anxiousness passed enough even though Hilda’s leg had her boxed in. 

“I—I don’t see the point of it.”

Hilda considered this for longer than Marianne had ever seen her think on anything. She pressed a finger to her cheek, craning her body to one side to look Marianne over. “If you’ve never done it…maybe it’s an infection that’s causing you to have this…dilemma. Does it sting sometimes? Is there a weird smell—these are not things I’ve experienced but, you know, ladies talk,” Hilda said. 

Marianne looked down at herself, the thing layer of fabric between the outside world in her crotch was probably barely covering her. She’d worn the underwear into this very stall so as to not be caught carrying as soiled pair around. She never expected to be caught without them and yet as Hilda spoke something inside of her stirred. A wet stringy strand of the substance touched her inner thigh, far too low hanging for comfort. It might have been visible underneath the hem of her dressing gown.

She tighten her legs together and made a small noise. “There’s no smell, no.”

“What was that? Does it hurt?” Asked Hilda. 

“No it’s just that—“ Marianne turned her head to the side to hide her face. “Whatever it is, it’s happening right now.” 

“Oh,” Hilda said, her pink eyes going wide for a moment. Then she said the last thing that Marianne expected. “Can I see?” 

“It could be, but I doubt that it is. In fact, I think I’ve come up with a diagnosis.” 

“But…how?” 

“Do you trust me, Marianne?”

She had trusted Hilda in more dire situations than this all of the time, she gave a confidant nod. 

“Lift up and let me see then.” 

Marianne gathered the silken gown in her hands and hitched it up just enough for the night breeze to cut between her legs. She felt the muscles tighten and knot from the chill. Hilda stopped down, putting Marianne’s vagina right at eye level. 

She scanned the cornflower blue hair that covered the mound just where Marianne’s legs met. “Wow, you hair is so fine and pretty. You don’t shave it, do you?” 

Shave it? Marianne was unsure of how to respond to that with anything but a rapid shake of her head. 

Hilda got closer and she felt and heard the other girl pulling air into her nose. Was Hilda sniffing her? It was weird, but for some reason the closeness made something inside of her quicken. Her heart picked up speed and there was this laser focused quality to her attention. It was not unlike being on the battlefield. Despite the apparent danger there was a clearness you achieved and a thrill in the whole thing. 

“You smell, well, normal. It doesn’t look like there anything wrong. In fact, I’m kind of jealous. Your vagina is super cute—not that boys care what they look like when they’re doing their thing.” 

“Th-thank you,” Marianne said. 

“So I think this is further proof of what I was saying. You haven’t got anything, you’re just missing something.” Hilda said as she got back to her full height. 

Marianne dropped her night gown back down. “Missing something?” 

“Yes. You don’t masturbate and I don’t see you chasing boys and while, they would be beating down the walls to get a chance with you that’s not your style…our bodies have needs besides food and water and it seems like yours is trying to tell you something,” said Hilda. 

“It would just be another chance for me to fail at something. What if I do it wrong?” Asked Marianne. 

“Do it wrong? It’s your body, do whatever you feel like so long as you don’t hurt anyone.” 

Marianne shook her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“What kind of things do you like? What makes you feel good? Experiment some and a lot of it will just come naturally.” Hilda explained. 

She glanced around the corner, out of the stall and toward the door to make sure no one was coming. “You have to have experienced part of it before—there’s a feeling you get when a person is close and you can smell their sweat, but it’s like the clean sweat or when you catch a glimpse of skin peeking out from under someone’s uniform that you weren’t meant to see. Oh! Or when you’re riding a horse and the rhythm its gait seems to be feeling a little too pleasant…” 

Marianne had spent a lot of time on horseback. Though she never thought of it before, there did seem to be a sort of physical sensation there. It wasn’t about the horse, but it was about what was being moved and manipulated. The thing was so slight, but it felt like the edge of something greater; like seeing a small tree above ground but missing the massive root system below it. 

“Is there a book you can show me or…” 

“A book? On, like, having a one woman carnival in your lady parts? You realize that Seteth wouldn’t ever approve that for the library, right? Could you imagine if Flayn…” 

“Can you show me…like on one of the dolls we use for medical training in the Infirmary?” Asked Marianne. 

Hilda put her index finger to her chin. “If anyone were going to have anatomically correct medical dummies it would be Manuela, but I don’t think that’s going to work. Wait! You know about, like, how boys and girls are different, right?” 

Marianne narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Boys have a, well it’s like a hard skin covered bone called a penis and girls…”

“Sweetie, no. I mean, okay, it is called a penis, but there’s no bone inside.”

“I heard one of the other students referring to a boner…” Marianne started only to be quickly cut off. 

“No, it’s just a thing they call it. And they do get hard. Don’t really understand how. Maybe it’s just the will of the Goddess,” Hilda said. 

Despite the oppressive feeling in the air, Marianne chuckled. If the thing that Hilda hadn’t been meant as a joke she sure worked hard to make it sound like one. It was rare that she found herself laughing in front of other humans and here she was laughing with Marianne. 

Through the past several months of being at the monastery Hilda sought her out, checked in on her, fretted over her. The other girl made herself out to be lazy, but truly lazy people didn’t work that hard trying to downplay their concern for others. 

There was certainly no one else she could talk to like this. 

“Have you ever seen one? Like on a boy?” Asked Marianne. 

“Yeah. Seen, touched, tasted—it’s kind of weird when I say it like that,” Hilda said. 

Here was a subject that she couldn’t find in any books. People were shy about their bodies and relationships often and those that weren’t would be shunned or looked down upon. Hilda was just willing to lay it all out there for her. 

“You’ve managed to—that is to say you’ve had…” 

“Yes,” Hilda said plainly. 

That same wait gathered in the pit of Marianne’s stomach, like there was something inside of her turning over and over like a compass. She could feel that same liquid leaking out of her the more she thought about it. Hilda and boys, or perhaps girls. She didn’t know where to begin. The basics of the thing were clear enough. A passage from some of Seiros’s teachings made it abundantly clear what the logistics of the whole thing were: ‘as sword goes in sheath, so to does he go into her and her womb shall bless this world with new life’.

She had read that scripture maybe a hundred times, but now it was stirring something else in her. 

“How did it feel?” Asked Marianne.

“Honestly? Horrible the first time. I was fourteen and he was older.” Hilda’s expression darkened. “He was the son of a noble and one of my brother’s underlings. I thought it was bold of him to court me and kept it secret and then one night he, well we—it happened on a servant’s bed at the Locket. He was rough and didn’t care about how I felt, afterward he left me to clean myself up,” Hilda sighed, averting her gaze.

Marianne felt her body tighten. She would have hugged Hilda if she thought it would help, but she felt so cold and unable to be of any kind of assistance, just like always.

“But you’re older than I was then and if you know what you like it will be easier. It’s not all bad, sometimes you’re with someone and things just click and it’s this perfect little moment. It’s hard to describe if you’ve never be in it before.” 

“Could you show me what it’s like…on me?” Marianne spoke the words before she realized what she was saying. Was that what she wanted? Is that what her body wanted? Her loins swelled inside, the way that the inside of her mouth would swell in anticipation of the first bite a citrus fruit. 

There was a palpable tension in the air, Marianne’s fingers linked up as she fidgeted nervously and waited for the inevitable denial. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hilda stared at her for a long time. “I’m not sure I get what you want me to do here…” 

She knew her hands should have stayed away, stayed down at her sides ore pressed up against her breast, but she let one of them stray between her, parting her folds with her fingers just enough for them to sink into a slick, impossible warmth. 

Hilda let out a nervous laugh, her eyes hunting for somewhere else to look before they settled on Marianne’s. “I don’t know—I’m not exactly a professor and this sounds a lot like actual work…” 

Marianne held her flat, just inside of herself, sliding back and forth so slightly. She sighed. 

“Like this?” Marianne asked.

Hilda stumbled forward and her eyes glazed over. She had just seen Marianne nude up close a moment ago, but it looked like this was different. 

Why was this so different, Marianne wondered. 

Her fingers were thin and still cool from the night air, but they quickly warmed just from how she moved them along the trench of skin that guarded the actual depths of her body. With each movement of her hand she wanted to venture in, to push deeper, but at the last moment she made the choice to keep massaging, her fingers veering up and slithering over the surface.

She opened her eyes to see Hilda biting her lip, how long had her eyes been closed?

“You can take it as slow or fast as you like…but no need to rush,” Hilda said as she stood, seemingly closer than before writhing her hands together over her lap. 

A deep, guttural grunt escaped Marianne. Her legs parted a little more with her taking the time to painstakingly work her feet further and further apart. The laundry shed was silent except for wet sound of her fingers against the folds of skin, her uneven breaths, and the distant drip of water somewhere on the other side of the stall wall. 

Strange things started to become more apparent as she continued. The fragrance in the air, which had been barely detectible a moment ago seemed overwhelmingly strong. And her body grew hot, impossibly hot. 

Marianne let out a whimper as the heel of her palm brushed against a knot of sensitive skin and in a jolt of dizzying sensations, Marianne almost lost her footing and whirled around on the wet floor. Hilda caught her at the waist, just before she fully committed to the fall. 

Her heart was pounding, but so was Hilda’s. She could feel it where Hilda’s breasts were pressed against her back, she felt every rise and fall of the other girl’s chest. 

“Are you okay?” Hilda asked. 

“Yes…” Marianne managed after swallowing. 

Marianne grasped Hilda’s arm at the wrist, just where it had caught her around the waist. Her fingers were still wet from the substance that seemed to be pouring out of her, even worse now than before. Hilda’s chin was on her shoulder, a soft floral hint of something on her body flooded Marianne’s nose. Hilda’s hair or perfume she figured. 

“You don’t want to do it when you’re standing up…unless there’s a wall or someone to support you nearby,” Hilda said. 

She moved her hand down Hilda’s wrist to her hand leaving a trail of her drying secretions on the other girl’s arm. She guided Hilda down between her legs as slowly and deliberately as possible. When Hilda opened her mouth to speak, Marianne was sure it would be in protest. Her heart sank for a moment. 

“Are you sure?” Hilda asked.

Marianne nodded, unable to form the words through her dissipating fear. 

It takes a few moments for Hilda to do much of anything besides run her fingers along smooth canopy of hairs, but even that sends shivers through Marianne. 

When she started to tease at the folds of Marianne’s skin, Marianne stomped her feet against the ground, struggling against Hilda enough that she was forced to readjust and used the hand that wasn’t teasing her Marianne to grab her across the chest. 

Marianne whined as her nipple was smashed flat under Hilda’s arm and then Hilda started to make slow circles with one finger, just inside of the folds of Marianne’s skin. 

“You okay?” Hilda whispered. 

Marianne nodded. 

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

Marianne strained herself, trying to speak, but resigned herself to nodding. 

Two of Hilda’s fingers plunge up into Marianne’s body for a flash of a second and then slip back out to massage the same knot of flesh that had almost caused her to topple over. From the moment that it’s touched Marianne feels her muscles jerking slightly, struggling to expel the excess energy from whatever it is Hilda is doing to her. 

“This is your clit…” Hilda’s lips brushed the side of Marianne’s neck as she was unable to predict which way the jolts of pleasure would send Marianne’s body next. “…keeping your fingers wet when playing with it will help with the sensitivity, see?” 

“Yes…yes,” Marianne managed. 

Hilda dipped back inside of Marianne, bucking a pair of fingers against the walls of Marianne’s depths with a sort of exploratory vigor. Soon Marianne found her hips moving in the same motion. When Hilda moved the hand over her chest this time, it was so that she was clutching Marianne’s breast. 

“There’s this spot inside of me, I don’t know how to describe it, you’ll see if I find it…” Hilda said. Her words were brushing past the flyaway tendrils of Marianne’s hair now, gliding over her cheek. 

Hilda’s fingers are digging up into her as she thrusts against her hand, as if the two of them are working very desperately to find something that they’ve lost deep inside of Marianne. 

She can’t remember when the moaning began, but it reaches a height that she is sure someone passing by could hear before she realizes that she doesn’t care. Hilda must not either because she says nothing of it. 

There’s this electric connection, almost the kind that she feels when drawing a spell out of herself to cast, but it’s shared between them. It’s like the energy is drawing Marianne down into Hilda and she can feel herself sinking further and further into the other girl. Her body shivers arrhythmically as Hilda works her own brand of magic. 

Then Hilda switched out her fingers for the thumb, wetting it inside of Marianne before pressing firmly on the clit and rocking it back and forth. 

A flash of red hot sensation rippled through Marianne that was so close to pain that she jostled herself free from Hilda and stumbled forward to kneel on the floor before collapsing onto all fours. 

The night air chilled her body and her awareness ebbed back in. Some of her hair had been pulled out of it’s braid in the moment and it draped down over her shoulder. For several seconds she braced herself against the floor, arms trembling as she fought to catch her breath. 

Marianne felt the footsteps as Hilda walked around and opened her eyes to see the other girl stopping to kneel in front of her, going down on all fours and then pressing her lips to Marianne’s hungrily. There’s a hint of something metallic on Hilda’s lips, but the desperation of how Hilda is pulling her in, sucking at Marianne’s own tender bottom lip and clutching the side of her face with one hand distracts her. 

It’s not until it’s over that Marianne realizes two things: this is her first kiss and the second she voices out loud a moment later. 

“I hurt you? When I fell, I busted your lip…” she said. 

There was a small trickle of blood from the side of Hilda’s lip. “It’s not like I can’t take a hit,” Hilda said with a laugh. 

Marianne got up onto her knees, her heart still pounding though it was becoming something more like normal, and gently took Hilda’s face in her hands. She rubbed her thumb through the blood, muttering something to herself. 

“Just a second,” she said to Hilda with a finality before she took a deep breath and summoned up a small bit of energy to mend the wound. The skin on Hilda’s lip slowly took returned to its normal color and was drawn together until no sign of the wound remained except for a blood streak on Hilda’s chin and the metallic taste in Marianne’s mouth.

Hilda moved for Marianne, their lips connecting and opening on impact. Their teeth bumped and Marianne moaned softly. Hilda passed her tongue over Marianne’s and slipping through the opening meant for Marianne’s neck. Her hand ghosted over Marianne’s upper chest until it found her right breast. 

She cupped it, squeezing it lightly in her hand and thumbing over the nipple. The underwear that Marianne had worn over her chest was little more than a slip to keep the sheer fabric of her night gown from being too see through. It was easy enough for Hilda to palm Marianne’s breast, pushing the shoulder of the gown away to lift it free of its silky confines. Marianne rested her face against Hilda’s shoulder, moaning into the soft, sweet smelling skin. 

For a moment Hilda tilted her head away from Marianne. “Your nipples…” she could hear the smile in Hilda’s voice, her tone almost splitting into laughter. “…they’re much bigger and darker than I expected.” 

Marianne let out a sharp breath as Hilda rolled her nipple between two fingers. 

“You know, it’s not like I think about other women’s nipples or something,” Hilda said. 

Marianne’s eyes were still closed, her face still dangerously close to the nape of Hilda’s neck. “I wonder about how people look under their clothes sometimes…” Marianne admitted, her sense dazed by the taste of Hilda’s sweat and the seemingly infinite warmth emanating from her. 

Hilda cupped her breast, rolling her finger around the nipple in a lazy, haphazard way. There was no pattern, no motion seemed to repeat and the surprise of it all excited Marianne until her heart pounding relentlessly. 

“Lift up,” Hilda said after she didn’t know how long. 

Some of the haze seemed to lift. Marianne got up onto her knees, the rough wet floor was more apparent now. Little, raw spots on her palms and legs stung from where she had first collapsed to the floor. She pushed a long sprig of blue hair out of her face and smiled. 

And that’s when Hilda lunged into her, pushing her back against the center pole of the laundry stall so hard that the shed rattled with a ferocity that rocked a metal washboard that had been hanging free to clatter to the floor. Marianne grabbed the wooden column behind her back, her fingers gripping it for stability as Hilda continued to kiss her. Then slowly the other girl was moving her hands up under Marianne’s gown, pushing the soaked fabric up past her knees and over her thighs. 

“I want to taste you,” Hilda whispered, her lips dragging every syllable into Marianne’s blush-warmed cheek. 

“Huh?” 

“I want to taste you,” Hilda repeated this like it meant anything too Marianne. “I’ve tasted myself—on a dare, then a whim, and then just because. It’s different sometimes, but I want to…” Hilda’s words devolved into a chuckle. 

Hilda wrapped her arms around Marianne’s legs, catching hold of the tops of her thighs and then, scooting forward and pushing Marianne up against the pole as she did, lifted the other girl onto her shoulders. 

When it was all said and done Marianne’s legs were dangling over Hilda’s back with Marianne herself supported only by Hilda body and a sturdy and, thank the goddess, smooth sanded wooden pole. Hilda had buried her face between Marianne’s legs and though she hadn’t thought of this, her understanding of what being tasted had meant was crystal clear. 

Hilda kissed and sucked at her, rubbing her nose against her clit and only coming up to breath on occasion. She would flatten her tongue against Marianne and make broad sweeps up and down for what seemed like an eternity. 

The spams were maddening torment, Marianne would have swore they hurt. She let go of the pole behind her, riding Hilda’s face and rocking against her. It wasn’t the act that hurt, but there was this awful anticipation. Marianne reached up over her head, catching the column again, her muscles tensing until she could feel her lower half trembling. 

Hilda was done talking now. Could she even manage to speak? 

In the blips of time when she could point her head down and hold her eyes opening, when the moans subsided enough for her to focus on anything other than the shock of pink hair and blur of skin between her legs, Marianne could just tell that Hilda had somehow gone deeper. She had dug her face into Marianne’s crotch to a depth that Marianne herself would have never explored. 

Part of Marianne wanted it to be over. Her heart felt like it would batter its way through her ribs. She wondered if she forgot how to breathe or did she ever properly know? It seemed that the things that she didn’t know about the human body, let alone her own were coming to light at a staggering pace. 

“Hilda…” Marianne gasped. 

“Mmhmm?”

“Please…Hilda…” Marianne scratched at the pole above her head. “Yes…” 

Her insides spasmed and every part of her seemed to stretch and flex and squirm all at once. She couldn’t reason out whatever it was that she wanted to say or think—the only clear thought in her mind was that she wanted Hilda to finish whatever it was she was doing. 

With every lick and movement of her face, Hilda edged her closer to some mountainous conclusion.

Marianne flattened her feet against Hilda’s back, her hips jerking and bucking her into Hilda, pushing Hilda’s face further and further into the folds between her legs. Marianne laced her fingers through Hilda’s bright pink hair. She clutched tight, tugging Hilda toward her. Begging her to keep going. 

She let out another breathy, “Yes.” Her moans mounted until she was forced to slap her other hand over her mouth, leaving on the one in Hilda’s hair to stabilize her. A pressure in her body reached a fever pitch and her frantic fidgeting and spasms became a desperate struggle. An explosion of warmth spread out through her being in waves that seemed to ebb from somewhere deep in her very center. 

This feeling. She didn’t know what to call it. If given the opportunity she would never let this end—she would ride Hilda’s face in a cycle of that sharp mounting tension and beautiful release as long as Hilda would have her. Marianne could already feel the magic passing. She drank in the night air as her skin cooled sharply. 

Marianne became very aware of Hilda’s face between her legs now, for a moment they had felt like they melded together. Everything that she was had flowed in and through Hilda and back connecting them. The connection was broken. Outside of the shed crickets chirped loudly. Water was dripping somewhere nearby. 

The discarded panties were on the ground nearby catching a strand of light from a slit in the shed. All of the things she had experienced here started with that. Hilda lowered her carefully to the ground and paused once her feet were on the ground as if to test if Marianne could stand after all that had happened. Marianne held on tight to Hilda, pushing in close to her for a kiss. 

Hilda smiled as their lips parted. “You taste wonderful—were you curious?” She asked. 

“What do you taste like?” Marianne asked. 

Hilda’s hand crept up under her black and pink dressing gown, she lifted it until her stomach was slightly exposed and slipped her fingers under the hem of her underwear. “Wow, I guess hard work pays off sometimes,” Hilda said with a smile. 

When Hilda pulled her hand from her panties, her fingers were coated with the Hilda version of what Marianne had spent much of her night trying to scrub away. 

Hilda put the fingers to Marianne’s face, dragging her middle finger across the bottom lip and beckoning Marianne’s mouth open. 

In turn Marianne opened her mouth, taking Hilda’s index and middle finger inside to suck them clean. The strange mix of flavors swirled around inside of her mouth. It reminded her in part of warm milk and salt with a hint of of something tinny. Stranger still was despite her being unable to define the taste as _good_ or _bad_ she wanted more. 

“Can I try to do that to you?” Marianne asked.

Hilda kissed her again with a renewed hunger. “You’re sweet, but if we make any more noise the Knights are going to assume someone’s being murdered,” Hilda said stroking her hair. “But…I like this. And I like you.”

Marianne nodded. “It was very enjoyable,” she said. 

Hilda stooped down to retrieve the soaked panties. “Let’s not leave your dirty laundry behind. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” 


End file.
